Why Do We Always End Up in the Hospital Wing?
by annapear
Summary: Harry and Draco find themselves in the Hospital Wing together quite a lot.  Are these occurrences just coincidences?
1. Scared of what's behind & what's before

"Wait!" Harry yelled.

Ron paused, mouth open, wand in the air pointed at Harry.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Harry's voice was a few tones higher with suppressed fear.

"Harry, we've gone through this," Hermione said, trying to soothe him. "I've done this spell on you twice now, and it's fine. Ron needs some practice, too."

"But… why do I always have to be the guinea pig?" Harry said, knowing the words sounded pathetic before they'd gotten all the way out of his mouth.

"You're fine," Hermione said, while Ron grumbled under his breath. "Turn back around and let's try it."

Harry swallowed, slowly turning so his back faced his two friends. He was standing on the opposite end of an abandoned classroom, shirtless. The three were practicing a spell Harry had found in the Half Blood Prince's margin scrawls. When performed correctly, the spell sprouted wings on the back of whomever it was cast on. However, it was a difficult spell to master; even Hermione had struggled with it. He stood with his hands clenched into fists, waiting for Ron's magic to find him.

"Perspicuus pennae!" Ron shouted, and Harry felt a familiar tingling along his shoulder blades. This sensation continued for a few moments, followed by Hermione's murmured, "Oh no." Harry spun towards them, just as Ron gave a great snort of laughter.

"What?" he asked, alarmed. "What happened?"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, still laughing at his best friend. Hermione was biting her lip; she charmed one of the picture frames on the wall into a mirror, and Harry stepped in front of it. He twisted around, neck craned to be able to see his back. He grimaced at the mess: two formless lumps had attached themselves to his shoulder blades, black feathers sticking out in all directions.

"Those aren't wings," he said, almost to himself.

"It is a good look for you, though," Ron said, chuckling. Harry almost clocked him.

Hermione was flipping through the worn potions book. "There's nothing here about the spell done wrong. Oh, I don't know what to do. We shouldn't try the counter-spell when the original hasn't gone according to plan."

Harry screwed up his face in disgust, looking at his mutilated back. He grabbed his shirt off one of the desks, pulling it over his head. It did nothing to hide the lumps.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, looking up from the book.

"Hospital Wing," Harry said, on his way out the door.

"Are you sure? And _you_ can just stop laughing. If you were able to do a simple spell this wouldn't have happened."

"Me? Don't even…"

Harry walked out of earshot, blessing the miraculously empty hallways on his way up three floors to the hospital wing. Hermione had grafted onto this spell beacuse she thought the ability to fly would be immensely valuable for Dumbledore's Army. The three of them decided to try and master the spell before teaching it to any of the others, a task which proved to be more difficult than originally imagined. The disjointed feathers itched fiercely against Harry's skin.

"Mr. Potter. What brings you in today?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

As way of answer, Harry pulled his shirt over his head.

"Oh my," Poppy breathed, examining him. "What happened here?"

"Transfiguration homework gone bad," he answered, sticking to the story he'd developed in the few minutes he'd had on his way up the stairs. She looked at him sharply for a moment, and then requested he lay down on his stomach on one of the beds. Harry complied, while Poppy wove a few test spells above his back.

The door to the Hospital Wing opened. Harry couldn't see who it was from his position on the bed, only heard Poppy say, "Have a seat."

Draco Malfoy came into view. He sat on the bed next to Harry's, fingertips pressed against his temples, back slumped, hair disheveled.

"Another headache?" Madame Pomfrey asked. Draco hummed in consent through clenched teeth. Harry watched as Poppy tipped the blonde's chin up with her fingers, looking into his face. "Have you been sleeping?"

Draco licked his lips, eyes darting to Harry for a split second, saying nothing.

Madame Pomfrey took on a matronly tone. "How much sleep did you get last night, Draco?" He muttered something noncommittal and Poppy crossed her arms.

"Lie down," she demanded. He looked up at her with big eyes, before complying. As she paced away, Draco heaved a sigh, messaging one side of his head with thin fingers.

"What the hell did you do to yourself, Potter?" Draco asked, voice missing most of its usual sneer.

"Just a bit of fun," Harry said, shifting on the bed a little. His eyes were stayed on Draco's face, which was pinched with pain. "Are you ok?" Harry asked, instead of a quippy comeback.

Draco locked glances with him; his eyes were like two grey pieces of ice, hard, unwavering.

Madame Pomfrey came back between their two beds, holding out a goblet to Draco. "Take a nap," she said, while he propped himself up on one elbow.

"I was hoping for something for the pain," he said, sniffing at the liquid.

"I know what you were hoping. Two hours; if you're headache isn't gone when you wake up, then I'll give you something for it." Draco sighed, and gulped down the potion. Wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, he lay back down, blowing his breath out in a sigh. A few moments later, his eyelids fell closed, his breathing deepened, the muscles in his face relaxed. Harry watched him quietly for some minutes, before Poppy came back to his bedside and cast a spell over his back. His shoulder blades warmed for a moment; Harry craned his neck back to see that the malformed growths had disappeared, however feathers were still sticking out every which way.

Madame Pomfrey stood staring down at him, puzzled. She snapped her fingers, and walked away, talking to herself. "There's a potion for feather removal. I'll just have to brew it."

Harry settled back down on his pillow, eyes returning to his sleeping enemy. Draco's body was so thin. Harry slipped off his own bed, spanning the few meters between their beds, and pulled a blanket up over Draco. He sat back on his mattress, crossing his legs.

A stabbing pain shot through his back, and he screamed out an "Ouch!" He turned around to see Madame Pomfrey standing, somewhat sheepishly, holding one long black feather in her hands.

"So, that's not a viable option for getting rid of them?" she asked, shrugging.

"I'd say not," Harry returned, eyes streaming.

"It will take me a little while to brew a potion that will set you back to normal, so sit tight."

"Thanks," Harry said, wiping at his eyes. He turned back, glad his yell had not disturbed the snoozing Slytherin. _Glad?_ Harry shook his head, and lay down. He matched his breathing with the deep breaths of Draco and felt his eyelids growing heavy.

* * *

He woke at a touch on his shoulder. "Here we are, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, handing him a goblet a steaming potion. "This should help you molt."

Harry sat up, raising one eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me," he said to himself, taking the potion and downing it in one gulp. It was surprisingly sweet. His back was suddenly a mass of prickling as feathers pushed themselves out of his skin. It felt disgusting and surprisingly satisfactory.

Draco was stirring in the bed beside him. He rubbed at his eyes.

"How's your head, Mr. Malfoy?" Madame Pomfrey asked, still supervising Harry's molting.

"Fine," Draco answered in a small voice. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head, revealing a pale strip of skin above his waistline, before using his hands to smooth back his hair. Harry swallowed. The prickling abated.

"Both of you are free to go," Poppy said, dismissing them. Harry pulled his shirt on, mussing his hair. "You," she said, pointing on finger at Harry, "no more 'transfiguration homework' mistakes." She curled her fingers into quotation marks as she said this. "And you," she turned her finger on Draco, "come see me this evening and I'll give you something to help you sleep." Draco nodded, murmuring a word of thanks, and both sixth years rose to leave.

"There's ten minutes left of Potions," Harry said, checking his watch. "We should probably go down and tell Snape why we missed class."

Draco nodded, and they turned together down the stairs toward the dungeons. Harry was surprised at his silence, but decided not to break it.

They reached the classroom, just as the double period was dismissed. They were buffeted by a wave of Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as he passed.

"Are you ok?" she asked, wide eyed. "I wasn't sure if Ron and I should come with you to the Hospital Wing, and then it was time for class. I took notes for you. Is everything alright? Why were you just walking with Malfoy?"

"I'm good," Harry said, detaching her hand, and following Draco into the now empty classroom. Draco was already at the front of the room with Professor Snape.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, how kind of you to grace us with your presence. I've already taken thirty points from Gryffindor because of your absence."

"Malfoy was gone, too!" Harry spouted before he could contain himself.

"And another ten for your cheek."

Harry fumed, but kept any further comments contained.

"I'm ready for whatever clever excuse you have to give for your absence in my class. Perhaps the humble art of potion brewing is too modest for the Chosen One. Were you, possibly, off fighting dark powers, once again saving the wizarding world single handedly?"

Harry opened his mouth, but Draco spoke first in a soft voice: "We were in the Hospital Wing."

Snape's glance shifted from Harry to his godson, a flash of concern entering his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Draco nodded. "I apologize for our absence. May we make up the lesson?"

Snape looked at Harry before turning back to Draco and saying, "I suppose that will be fine. Sunday night, eight o'clock." Turning to Harry, he added with a sneer, "Do not be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Harry said, curving his lips into a small smile. The boys left the room together. They paused awkwardly outside of the door before parting ways.

"See you tomorrow for Quidditch," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"See you," Draco replied, not making eye contact, before turning down the hall towards the Slytherin common room.

"That was weird," Harry said to no one in particular before taking to the stairs.

* * *

**A/N:** This is not a sequel to _In the Bleak Midwinter_. I just like this pairing and this year. And wanted something a little bit more light hearted. Thanks for reading!

PS: I _know_ that Snape didn't teach Potions in Harry's sixth year. Humor me, and just go with it.


	2. Leave it all up in the air

Harry woke up early the next morning to the sound of pouring rain. Ron was snoring contentedly in the bed next to his, and his other three roommates were still asleep as well. He slid out of bed, and stood at the window, leaning his head against the cold glass. His breath formed a cloud of condensation in front of his mouth as he looked out at the Quidditch pitch. The dark grey clouds showed no signs of leaving. He chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking strategy for playing in this weather against the Slytherins.

His thoughts started to crawl away with him, and he wondered to himself whether or not Draco was awake right now, or still entrenched in dreams. He found himself hoping that he was still fast asleep, warm in his bed, somewhere down below in the Slytherin dormitories.

"Why are you thinking about him?" he asked himself, whispering these words out loud. He convinced himself that it was only because he wanted a fair game; there would be an unfair advantage if Draco was sleep deprived. Or something like that. He turned away from the window, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater, before heading down to the Great Hall for a bite of breakfast.

The long tables were sparsely populated, most students taking advantage of their Saturday morning to catch up on some much needed sleep. Harry casually glanced over at the Slytherin table as he walked down the hall: no bright blonde hair caught his eye. He suppressed a sigh, and slid onto a Gryffindor bench.

"You're up early," Hermione said as she joined him. He was just finished his third piece of toast.

"Rain woke me," he said, pointing a finger upwards toward the stormy ceiling.

"How are you feeling about the match?" she asked, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"Not bad. Our team's strong. They just need to stay focused and remember what we've practiced and not be intimidated by any trash talk."

She was very carefully not looking at him when she asked, "How d'you think Ron will do?"

He smiled as she continued to stare down at the toast she was buttering. "He'll be good."

She nodded, not able to hide her red cheeks. Harry slid some sausages onto his plate, looking up at the clouds above him, wishing them away.

"Harry, I just have to say, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I pushed you into having Ron try the spell on you, and you could have gotten seriously hurt. I was an absolute idiot; I wasn't even thinking-"

"Mione, it's fine. I appreciate the apology, but no harm was done. We'll just be more careful next time."

She nodded, mouthing "sorry" again. The Hall was beginning to fill with noise and bodies, breakfast being enjoyed all around them. Harry excused himself to go get changed into his Quidditch things, and left the Hall. He surveyed the other tables as he was leaving.

Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table, a ways apart from any of his classmates. He locked eyes with Harry for a moment, before Harry broke eye contact and hurried out of the Hall and up the stairs.

Ron was roaring at a very shaken Neville when Harry got back up to their room. Harry jumped in front of him as Ron was getting out his wand. "Ron, what are you going on about?" he asked, pushing down his best mate's arm.

"I can't find my lucky socks!"

"What?" Harry swallowed a laugh.

"My lucky sodding socks, they're gone! I can't play a match without them."

Neville tilted his head to the side, before stooping and reaching under Ron's bed. "These them?" he asked, straightening, a bundle of grey socks held in his outstretched hand.

"I knew you took them!" Ron lunged toward Neville, but Harry held him back.

"Thanks for finding them, Neville," Harry said, taking the socks. Neville gratefully fled from their room.

"What is wrong with you?" Harry asked, throwing the pair of socks at Ron's head. "What were you going to do, curse him? It's a bloody pair of socks, Ron. Not the end of the world."

"I need them to play well," Ron muttered, while pulling on said socks.

"You don't need them to play well! You just need you. You're a great Keeper, Ron. I thought we'd gone over this. Now let's get out there and kick some Slytherin arse. That is, if you don't attack any of our other friends first."  
Ron flushed, red sneaking down his neck and up into his ears.

"Now, about this rain…" The two friends started to talk Quidditch as they changed into their scarlet robes and headed down to the pitch.

* * *

This was a nasty rain. After ten minutes of the game, the players on both teams resembled drowned rats more than students. Harry was soaked to the skin, trying to keep his teeth from chattering as he looked around for the snitch. Harry kept one eye on Draco, who was tailing him casually, keeping a respectful distance, also seeking that illusive winged ball.

Gryffindors were up sixty points to twenty. Harry was proud of their efforts despite the horrible conditions. His only worry was Ron, who had missed that last two saves in a row. He needed to find the snitch and now before Ron's confidence had a chance to be shaken even more.

Suddenly, Draco shot off across the pitch. Harry was on his tail in a moment, gaining on him. He squinted ahead, trying to see the snitch. When Harry was even with Draco, he chanced a glance sideways. Draco's face was hard, concentrated on the air before him. Harry looked back ahead, finally glancing the snitch just as it took a sharp turn upwards. Both brooms followed closely behind. Harry coaxed a little more speed out of his Firebolt, surging ahead of Draco. He was forced to come to a quick stop, though, as a bludger fired across his path. Draco looked back at him when he passed, and it was this moment that the snitch chose to disappear. Draco swore loudly, echoed by Harry. They shared a glance before circling the pitch in different directions.

Harry blinked rain out of his eyes. There was a roar from the Slytherin end of the field as Ron missed another goal. Harry groaned to himself. He waved at Madame Hooch and called a time out. His team crashed down in the mud, and huddled together, a mass of soggy robes and clouded breath.

"Keep it up. We're looking good. We've just got to keep them on the run," Harry said, trying to make his voice sound as bright as possible. Ron was looking scared beneath his freckles. "We've got this."

"It'd be good if you could get the snitch as soon as possible, Harry," said Ginny. The rest of the team nodded along with her statement.

He tried to smile at them. "I'll work on that, as long as you all keep working on what you've been doing." They all clambered back onto their brooms and took to the air.

Harry zoomed higher than the rest of the team, scouring the pitch for any sign of gold. He kept getting distracted, though, by glancing at Draco. The Slytherin seeker seemed to have abandoned looking for the snitch at all. He was staring at the ground, some fifty feet below him.

Buffeted by the wind, Harry worked hard to keep his broom on course, one eye on Draco, the other looking for the snitch. Just as Harry spied that glint of gold again, Draco bulleted off across the pitch in the opposite direction. For a split second, Harry thought about going after the snitch, but he turned him broomstick and raced after Draco.

Draco was forcing his broom up and up, through the pouring rain. Harry called to him, but his voice was snatched away by the wind. They were now more than one hundred feet above the ground and still climbing. Harry shook his dripping hair out of his eyes, just in time to see Draco tip sideways on his broom and fall.

Harry had something new to catch in this game.

He tore downwards, racing gravity. Approaching Draco, he tried to pull the Slytherin onto his broom, but they turned into a tangle of arms and legs and rain-logged robes, plummeting downwards. Harry held on tightly to Draco, feeling his own legs losing their grip on his broom. He couldn't see how far the ground was from where they currently were in the sky. This wondering was answered as the two of them crashed into the mud a second later.


	3. And it only happened despite me or you

Harry opened his eyes. A dull roar echoed throughout the stadium, all voices sounding at once, students standing, peering, trying to get a glance of what happened. He blinked slowly, the world swimming above him, raindrops still showering. Pain was rocketing through his head, his back. He lifted his head a few inches to see Draco who was sprawled in the mud just beside him.

"The fuck were you thinking?" Harry asked, his voice sounding slurred. Draco swung his head, looking over at him, his eyelids at half mast. A trail of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. He didn't have a chance to answer before Harry blacked out.

* * *

"Get out!" Harry woke up again to someone yelling. It was Madame Pomfrey. She was ushering two mud-splattered Quidditch teams out of the Hospital Wing, not without their share of protesting. She finally slammed the door after them, all the while muttering after the students she had just banished.

The pain in Harry's head had lessened since he'd been laying in the mud. He reached up, and found a bandage wrapped around his forehead. His world was blurry; someone had taken off his glasses. He looked to his left, and Draco was there, tucked tidily into bed, looking no worse for the wear.

"Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey was at his bedside. "How do you feel?"

"A little dizzy," Harry replied.

"I should imagine so. You hit your head pretty hard when you landed."

"Is he ok?" Harry asked, returning his gaze to the bed beside his.

"He managed to break the majority of his ribs, but I fixed that in a snap. Besides that, he should be fine. You'll probably both feel like you've gotten in an auto accident for the next several days, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage."

"Thanks," Harry said, giving her a gentle smile. She nodded at him and walked away. Harry watched her leave, and when she was back in her office, he turned again to his left and said, "Malfoy."

Harry could see the Slytherin's eyes move beneath his eyelids before he roused into wakefulness. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, blinking slowly, and then turned his head to face Harry.

"You ok?" was the first thing out of Draco's mouth.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Harry asked instead, ignoring the question.

Draco's grey eyes widened slightly. "Do what?"

"Fall off your broom, you idiot."

"It was an accident."

"Like hell it was."

Draco licked his lips, "It was the storm. Everything was so wet, and I got disoriented and slipped."

"Fuck that, Malfoy. I was right behind you. I saw you fall. That was no accident."

Draco's eyes hardened. "Why would I fall off my broom on purpose?"

"I dunno. Probably to get some bloody attention."

Draco merely looked at him with pure disgust, before twisting away. He curled up, back facing Harry. Harry was equally disgusted with Draco: where did he get off falling off his broom like that? Was he even going to say thank you to Harry for probably saving his life? _But maybe he was _trying_ to hurt himself._ Harry shuddered as this thought ran through his mind.

"I wonder who won the game?" Harry wondered aloud.

Draco swung his head around, looking at Harry again. "Really? All you care about is Quidditch…"

"What's it to you what I do and don't care about?"

"There are more important things."

"Important enough to throw yourself off a broom in order to avoid them?"

Draco paled, and turned around again. Harry wouldn't let him go at that; he climbed out of bed, head feeling too light, and stumbled the few feet to where Draco lay. He tugged on Draco's shoulder, forcing him to look up at his face.

"You could have gotten us both killed."

"I didn't ask you to save me."

Harry wanted to spit in his face. "You're right: I'm sorry for imposing. I should have just let you fall." He swayed on his feet; Draco sat up quickly, taking his arms to steady him. Harry sat down heavily on the side of Draco's bed, one hand against the side of his head.

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly. "I didn't mean for anyone else to get hurt, especially not you."

Harry paused for a moment, looking down at his lap, pondering those words.

"You wouldn't have died, you know? Not from that height." Harry said, looking over at him.

The Slytherin nodded soberly. "I know. I wasn't trying to kill myself."

Harry blew out his breath in disbelief, "Then what were you trying to do?"

Draco wouldn't look at him. "I just thought… maybe if I was hurt I wouldn't have to…"

Harry reached forward and tipped Draco's face towards his, forcing grey eyes to lock with green. "I don't know what you're trying to get out of doing, but harming yourself isn't a way to go about it. Ok?"

Draco said nothing.

"You might be a git, but you're not as worthless as all that. And if I catch you trying to hurt yourself again, I'm going to find you, stop you, and then soundly kick your ass."

Draco laughed as one tear worked itself down his pale cheek. Harry was tempted to wipe away this tear, gently stroking Draco's face. He was startled by how this vulnerability brought out Draco's cold beauty, emphasizing the perfection of his thin face. Harry hurriedly stood up and returned to his own bed, laying down facing away from the blonde.

"Thanks, Harry," Draco's small voice reached him. Harry squeezed his eyes closed and pretended to fall asleep.


	4. I can tell that we are gonna be friends

The next morning, Harry woke to whispers flying above his head.

"If you want to know, you ask him! You're his best friend after all."

"But you're a girl. You're really good at these type of things. If I try, I'll just botch it up."

Harry opened his eyes just in time to see Hermione flush bright red. His two closest friends were sitting on either side of his bed. They looked down at him in unison.

"'Lo, mate."

"Hiya, Harry."

"How are you?"

Harry nodded, groping for his glasses. Hermione grabbed them off the table beside his bed and handed them to him. Harry shifted in bed, pulling himself up into more of a sitting position. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, stiff, weak, and aching. He groaned, leaning back against his pillows.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, while Ron said, "That was some fall."

"Tell me about it," Harry returned, gently stretching his neck from side to side.

"Harry, what exactly happened up there?" Hermione asked, a bit hesitant.

He chanced a glance past where she sat to Draco's bed. The blonde was curled on his side, facing Harry. As though he could feel Harry's gaze on him, Draco's eyes slid open. They looked at each other for a breath, before Harry looked back to Hermione, saying, "Malfoy fell off his broom."

"And you went for him instead of the snitch? C'mon, Harry, that could have been our game!"

"Ron!" Hermione chastised sharply.

Harry turned to look at Ron. "It was just a game, Ron."

Ron said, with a straight face, "It was just Malfoy, Harry."

"What are you saying?"

"You have this need to save everyone you ever come into contact with, no matter if they're asking for saving or not."

"I'm sorry, but if you saw someone plummeting from a broomstick over a hundred feet in the air, you wouldn't try and help them?"

"You really think Malfoy is worth all that?"

Without hesitation, Harry answered, "Of course I do."

Ron scoffed, looking away. Hermione was still chewing on her lower lip, watching this interaction between the two friends. Harry closed his eyes, wishing they would just leave him alone. He wasn't exactly sure what he was thinking about Draco; he needed some time to clear his head.

"The important thing is that both of you are ok," Hermione said, trying to bridge the gap between best friends. Harry had to nod in agreement with her.

Trying to appease Ron, he asked, "So, what did happen with the game?"

"With both of you down, and the weather getting worse, Madame Hooch decided to call it. They rescheduled the match for next month."

"Rescheduled? That's a first."

"Honestly. Try not to get distracted saving people at the rematch," Ron said, with a bit of a sideways smile.

"I'll do my best."

"Well," Hermione said, eager to end things on a positive note, "we should let you rest. We'll see you back in the common room soon, I'm sure."

"Thanks for coming to say hi," Harry said. He heaved a sigh once they had both left the Hospital Wing. He looked over to Draco; the grey eyes found his immediately.

"Sorry about Ron," he said quickly, feeling ashamed for his friend's behavior.

Draco shrugged, "I'll always be a ferret to him. Not without reason, I guess."

"He shouldn't have talked about you like that."

Draco just shrugged again. "Were I in his position, I probably would have said worse."

"You're worth more than any Quidditch match, Draco."

Draco's lips parted, eyes stayed on Harry at the use of his first name.

"I wish I could say I would have done the same for you, Harry, but honestly… I don't think I would have." A bright spot of pink appeared on each of his cheeks as he said this.

Harry was surprised by how much this revelation affected him. His eyes were swimming with tears.

"I'm so sorry," Draco said.

Harry shook his head. "No, that's fine. If I had it to do over, I'd go for the snitch," he said, lying through his teeth.

"No, you wouldn't."

Harry looked at him, "How do you know?"

"Because you're a good person. You have to do the right thing; that's what drives you. You could never turn you back on someone in need. That's one of the best things about you."

_Who is this?_ Harry wondered to himself, amazed at this new side of Draco slowly being revealed. This new and very human side. He didn't know what to say in response, and contented himself with trying to smooth down his rebellious hair. Draco's eyes followed Harry's movements, a small sad smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Draco mirrored Harry in sitting up; he swore quietly as he moved. Harry couldn't help but laugh a little, not cruelly. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Pretty good until I moved. You?"

"About the same. You think Pomfrey will let us out today?"

"She'd better. If we miss Potions tonight, Snape won't be happy."

Harry crinkled his nose. "I forgot we had to do that tonight. What d'you think the lesson will be."

"I dunno, but probably nothing good. He doesn't really like you."

"Really? I hadn't gotten that impression."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Oh, you're just so funny." Harry laughed back at him. He was surprised: apparently, it took one day in the Hospital Wing together to lay the foundation, and two to develop a friendship. What would three bring? Harry was sure that they wouldn't have that experience for a long while, as he watched Draco's long slender fingers massaging the sides of his head.

"No more falling off broomsticks," Poppy said, walking up between their two beds. "Attempt not to get yourselves killed."

"Yes, ma'am," they both chorused, and climbed out of bed. Madame Pomfrey drew the curtains around their beds so they could change back into their clothes. Once they had emerged, they left the Hospital Wing together.

"I guess I'll see you tonight, then," Harry said, as they reached their separate ways.

"Yeah," Draco said, voice quiet, looking down the hallway toward the stairs leading down, right hand gripping his left forearm.

Harry took his shoulder momentarily, "You ok?"

Draco tore his eyes away from looking at nothing and focused on Harry's face.

"You can be a good person, too, you know?" he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.

"What?"

"I'm not the only person out there trying to do good. There are lots of us. And you've got good in you."

"Bye, Harry," Draco said, pulling himself away.

"Bye." Harry watched him walk down the hallway, long legs carrying him slowly. Once his pale head had vanished down the stairs, he turned and made his own way back home.

Climbing through the portrait hole, he was met with a lot of quick glances, and a few "welcome back"s. He located Hermione and Ron in a few overstuffed chairs in one corner and quickly joined them. Hermione was curled up with a huge book that looked older than Dumbledore, while Ron was sucking on the end of a quill, slouched over a roll of parchment on the table before him.

"Good to have you back, Harry," Hermione said without looking up when Harry sat down in a chair beside her.

"It's not like I've been gone for weeks on end."

"I know. But twenty-four hours is still a little while."

"Oh yes, we missed you so terribly," Ron said, looking up and feigning crying.

Harry considered throwing something at him, but instead settled back in his chair. He looked at his watch: he had a few hours before he needed to join Draco in the dungeons for their private Potions lesson.

"Have you finished your essay for McGonagall yet?" Ron asked, resuming sucking on his quill.

Harry groaned. "No. I've not even started."

"Harry, it's due tomorrow!" Hermione said, voice taking on the tone of a parent.

"I know. I know. But I've been a bit busy this weekend." He stood up in order to gather his things from his dormitory.

"Yeah, busy hanging out with Malfoy," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Shut your mouth!" Harry yelled before he could stop himself. "What business is it of yours who I hang out with?"

"I'm only your best mate!" Ron countered, rising to his feet to face Harry. "I think I'm allowed to be concerned when you're spending all your time with scum."

"It hasn't been _all my time_. We've been in the Hospital together! And stop talking about him like he's worthless. You're no better than he is."

Ron's ears had gone red. "You don't think I'm any better than a pathetic, stuck up, rich, wanna-be Death Eater, ferrety prick?"

"Stop it. Oh please, just stop it. People are staring," Hermione was whispering from her chair.

"Why can't you ever give people a chance, Ron? They fail you once and that's all they'll ever be to you. He is so much more than that."

"When did you fall in love with him?" Ron asked, looking disgusted, spitting the words.

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words got caught somewhere around the back of his throat. His face was flaming red as he stood there gaping.

The blood drained from Ron's face: "Are you not going to deny it?"

"I…" Harry stammered, before turning to flee out the portrait hole.


	5. I want to hold your hand

Harry sprinted past Neville on his way out of the common room, ignoring a call of "Hey Harry, good to see you!" He slammed the portrait behind him, and almost tripped over himself on his way down the stairs. After running through several hallways, though, he realized he didn't have a clue where he was going.

_I just need some air_, he said to himself, and directed his feet toward the entrance hall of the castle. He slowed his steps, now at a quick walk instead of a full out run. His heart was pounding painfully against his ribs, and he drew in large gulps of air through his mouth, trying to calm his racing mind.

_Why didn't you just say no? Why didn't you scoff and brush it off? Why didn't you hex him for saying something so crazy? Why didn't you laugh in his face? Why did you just stand there like an idiot, not saying anything?_ He chastised himself, making his way down the main stairs. These thoughts evaporated, though, when he saw who was coming through a side hallway at the same time he reached the entrance hall.

"Long time no see," Draco said, coming close to Harry, an easy smile gracing his lips.

"Seriously. What are you up to?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Draco motioned back towards the hallway he'd just emerged from, "I couldn't be around people right now, you know?"

Harry nodded sharply. "I get that. I'll leave you to your thoughts, then." He took a step away, but was stayed by a hand on his arm.

"Maybe I could handle being around just one person," Draco said, voice soft.

Harry swallowed. "Want to take a walk?"

Draco nodded. They walked out the doors together. Autumn was turning to winter, and a strong wind flew bitingly through the grounds. The two sixth years made their way against the wind toward the lake. They were walking close together, and several times their hands brushed.

Harry gritted his teeth against the chill of the wind, and silently begged his heart to calm down; it leaped every time his skin touched Draco's.

"So… how's, you know, your year going?" Draco asked.

"Pretty good," Harry said automatically. "Yours?"

"Pretty good," Draco echoed. They both knew the other was lying.

They were now walking along the edge of the lake, the dark water lapping up along the shore a few feet from where they trod. Harry chanced a side look at Draco; the blonde was staring across the expanse of water, eyes distant. Harry was tempted to slip his cold fingers into Draco's, to nuzzle his cold face into the long, white expanse of Draco's neck. He took a deep breath.

At this breath, Draco turned at looked at him. Harry was struck by the openness in Draco's face. If he had never met the blonde before this moment, he wouldn't have believed the potential for sneering coldness that usually accompanied Draco. That persona had been dropped ever since Harry had almost fallen in the Hospital Wing the day before, when Draco had steadied him. He silently wished he'd never see that icy façade again.

The wind picked up, sending shuddering down Harry's body. He glanced again at Draco: the blonde's teeth were chattering, as he wrapped his own arms around himself.

"I'm freezing," Harry said, laughing at himself a little.

"Me too. Why didn't we bring cloaks?"

"Because we're idiots."

"Apparently." Draco laughed, "Come on. Let's get back inside."

"We could go down to the kitchens and get some tea," Harry said.

"Sounds perfect."

Harry laid one hand quickly on Draco's elbow, turning him back towards the castle. Draco sucked in his breath, and said, "Your skin is like ice."

"You can feel it through your sleeve?"

Draco nodded, shivering. He grabbed Harry's hand in both of his and rubbed it rapidly. He held Harry's fingers up to his mouth, expelling a puff of hot air, warming them. Harry swallowed painfully as they walked back towards Hogwarts together, Draco still holding onto his hand.

"Is your other hand equally as cold?" he asked, looking over at Harry almost coyly. Harry nodded wordlessly, and Draco took it and repeated his warming ritual. This lasted until they were climbing the stairs back into the castle. A cloud of warmth enveloped the two of them, and Draco released Harry's hand, rubbing his own together, switching his weight from foot to foot.

"You gonna make it?" Harry asked, watching his little 'get warm' dance.

"I think so. It feels like it'll snow soon."

"Probably just in time for our Quidditch match." Harry stuck a faux-threatening finger in his face. "Remember, you fall off your broom again and I'll kill you."

Draco laughed, grabbed Harry's hand, and dragged him down a hallway toward the kitchen; their fingers were interlocked.

Harry was overwhelmed. This was happening so quickly. Two days ago, they would have exchanged insults and dark glares in passing, and now this? He didn't know what to think. But his heart was skipping happily along, and he was left with no choice but to follow.

Draco was tickling the pear, and then pulling Harry into the kitchen. House elves were bustling all around, getting ready for dinner. Before Harry even had a chance to catch his breath, he was almost knocked backwards by a hug around his knees.

"Harry Potter!" Dobby was gazing up at him with huge eyes.

"Hiya, Dobby," Harry said, trying to disengage himself from the house elf without toppling over. Draco, who had let go of his hand, was of no help whatsoever.

"What is Harry Potter doing here with that Malfoy?" Dobby asked, his voice hushed.

"We've come for some tea," Harry said, finally stepping out of the embrace. "Can you-"

Dobby interrupted, "He is a bad man, Harry Potter. A bad man! Harry Potter should not be around him." Draco quietly excused himself and left to kitchen. Dobby tried to say something more, but shuddered and grabbed a pot lid, slamming himself on the head.

"Dobby, stop it!" Harry said, grabbing the lid. "You shouldn't say those things about Draco. He's my friend."

"Friend?" Dobby asked, a little cross-eyed as Harry followed Draco out of the kitchen. "Good bye, Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked after him as Harry walked out the door.

Draco was sitting on the floor of the hallway, back up against the wall, hugging his arms loosely around his knees. Harry sat down beside him. The blonde was staring at nothing, chewing the inside of his cheek. Harry laid a hand on his knee. Draco didn't look at Harry as he said:  
"Everyone who loves you hates me."

"That's not true."

"Name one person."

Harry hated the silence that stretched between them. The lamplight made the tears in Draco's eyes shine.

"Come on," Harry said, standing and holding out his hands to Draco.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, grabbing Harry's hands and pulling himself up from the floor.

"You said you didn't want to be around people. So come on." Harry linked his fingers with Draco's again, and led him gently through the corridor, up an empty staircase to the seventh floor. Harry still held onto Draco's hand as he paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall. Draco's fingers were squeezing his tightly as Harry thought hard, eyes closed, _I need a place for us to be alone. _When he opened his eyes, a door had appeared.

Harry opened the new door, and pulled Draco inside the Room of Requirement.


	6. A kiss with a fist is better than none

The Room had outdone itself. The space Harry wished for was small, not much bigger than his bedroom back at the Dursley's. A fireplace adorned one wall, flames high and warm. A plush couch took up most of the space, inviting. And a tray sat atop a low table, bearing tea and sandwiches. Harry closed the door behind them, while Draco licked his lips, looking up at the high ceiling. Harry thought he heard him mutter, "I hate this room," but when he looked at the blonde he seemed to not have spoken. In unison, they both stuck their hands out to the fire, warming away the chill still clinging to their fingers.

"Sorry about Dobby," Harry said after a minute, looking sideways at Draco.

Draco shrugged one shoulder. "Not your fault," he said, staring into the flames.

"I thought of someone."

"Hmm?"

"Someone who loves me who doesn't hate you."

Draco turned to look at him this time. "Who?" he asked, so quietly his voice was barely audible.

"Dumbledore," Harry said with a small smile.

Draco sank down, sitting cross-legged on the rug. Harry followed him, only inches separating them. "He'll hate me," Draco said, eyes back on the fire. "They all will eventually."

"Why?"

Draco only shook his head.

Harry reached out and touched Draco's knee. The motion made Draco look at Harry. "I don't hate you." Harry leaned forward and kissed him softly on the mouth.

"Say it again," Draco said, eyes closed.

"I don't hate you, Draco Malfoy."

Draco grabbed Harry around the back of the neck and kissed him fiercely. His fingers were twisted into Harry's hair, tugs bringing the most delightful pain. Harry kissed him back, one hand cupping the side of Draco's face.

It took Harry a moment to realize that Draco was crying. Harry pulled away slightly, looking down at Draco's face streaming with tears, his shoulders wracked with sobs. Draco was still gripping desperately to the back of Harry's head, and Harry pulled him close, surrounding him in an embrace.

"Shh," he whispered into Draco's hair as the blonde sobbed into his chest. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't do this," Draco whispered again and again through his tears. Harry kissed his silvery temple, holding him closer.

Eventually, his sobs subsided, his breathing slowed. He pulled away from Harry, wiping his eyes, sniffing. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"It's ok," Harry said earnestly.

"I've needed to do that for a while."

"It wasn't…" Harry swallowed, "It wasn't the kiss, then?"

Draco looked up at him, eyes red. "What?"

Harry shrugged sheepishly, "I've got a bad track record with people crying after I kiss them."

Draco gave a strangled laugh as one last tear escaped down his cheek. He shook his head, and said, "No, it wasn't the kiss."

"Good." Harry didn't hesitate this time to reach forward and wipe the tear from Draco's face. Then he gently kissed the spot the tear had been, tasting the salt on his smooth skin. He felt Draco shiver under his touch.

Harry snuck a look at his watch: they only had half an hour before they needed to be down in the dungeons. He swore quietly to himself, relaying this information to Draco. They both hurriedly ate a couple of sandwiches and burnt their lips on cups of tea, before leaving the Room together.

As they passed through the hallways, Harry and Draco walked especially close to each other, fingers occasionally brushing. Harry wanted to hold his hand with abandon, but there were too many students and professors roaming the hallways. It wasn't time for that. At least, not now. Not yet.

They reached the Potions classroom with five minutes to spare. Professor Snape was seated at his desk, hands folded, waiting for them. His gaze may have rested on Draco's splotchy face and red eyes for a moment. "A special challenge for you tonight," Snape said as way of greeting. He waved his wand at the board, and a complicated potion recipe scribbled itself in chalk. "No books. No help. Let's see how much you two have actually been paying attention in class. At the end of the lesson, you'll each test your potion." Harry inwardly groaned. "On each other," Snape finished. "I will return in one hour. That should be more than enough time." And he swept from the room, leaving the two sixth years to their devices.

"Don't worry," Draco said, lighting a fire under his cauldron. "I won't poison you."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Harry said honestly. "I'm lousy at Potions."

"You just have to follow the instructions. Exactly. It just takes good concentration and reading skills." He nudged Harry in the ribs, "Come on; we'll work on it together."

They both went to the supply closet, returning with arms full of the complicated and slightly disgusting ingredients required by the challenging recipe.

"D'you know what potion this is?" Harry asked, noticing the lack of title on the board.

Draco hummed in ascent.

"What is it?"

"Not telling."

"Meanie."

Draco only smirked. They started adding ingredients and stirring to the specifications. Draco showed him several tips along the way, and Harry found he was actually enjoying himself. He doubted very much, though, that it was the subject material and rather thought it was the company.

"So," Draco opened, sprinkling a few lacewing flies into his cauldron, "about what just happened…"

"Yes?" Harry prompted, waving his wand above his own cauldron.

"W-what are we going to do?"

Harry's heart skipped at this small stutter in Draco's speech. He couldn't remember anything ever being more endearing. "I say we publish the news in the Daily Prophet."

Draco gave a half-hearted smile, brandishing his silver knife. "But really."

"But really what?" Harry asked, tossing in two lacewing fly handfuls.

"I don't… I'm not sure."

Harry realized that he looked terrified. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he said quickly, hoping to reassure Draco. "Why don't we sleep on it, and see how we feel tomorrow, yeah?"

Draco nodded, almost to himself, watching as his potion turned the perfect light green the board described.

"You really are good at this," Harry said, watching his own bubble in a darker hue.

"Everybody's got to be good at something, right?" Draco said, not looking at Harry. He pulled himself up onto one of the other tables, letting his potion simmer for the allotted fifteen minutes. Harry still had a few ingredients to add.

One hour exactly after he had left, Snape swept back into his classroom. He summoned two goblets and filled them from each of the two cauldrons. "Let's see how well you did," he said, handing each goblet to the opposite student.

Harry quickly drained Draco's potion, waiting to see what would happen. His heart swelled within him, every hair on his body seemed to be standing on end, and Draco standing before him, staring down into a now empty goblet, was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen in his life. Harry took a step toward him, wanting to kiss him more than he had ever wanted anything in the entire world. _Yes_, Harry thought to himself, _We can make this work. We're meant to be together._

As Harry reached out, Draco shuddered and collapsed.


	7. Promise not to promise anymore

"What have you done now, Potter?" Snape asked, sniffing the air above Harry's disastrous cauldron. Harry was blinking slowly, staring down at Draco, wondering why he was on the ground, head feeling too light to still be attached to his body. Snape grumbled, pulling a vial from inside his robes. He uncorked it, and handed it to Harry.

"Drink," he commanded, and Harry was quick to obey. The antidote worked quickly; his heart deflated a bit, and his head seemed to come back to rest quite solidly on his neck. He licked his lips and dropped to his knees beside Draco.

The blonde wasn't unconscious; his body was twitching, and he looked up at Harry with glazed eyes. Harry pulled him into his lap, cradling his head against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Dray. I'm so sorry," was all Harry could stammer. Draco seemed to be having trouble swallowing and said nothing in return.

"He'll be fine," Snape said, voice as droning as ever. "You haven't poisoned him; it seems you can't even do that properly." Harry closed his eyes in gratitude, holding Draco closer, ignoring Snape's jab.

The professor came around their side of the table, kneeling beside the pair and tilting Draco's face toward him. He seemed satisfied by what he saw, and said to Harry, "Take him up to the Hospital Wing. I'll be up presently with an antidote for your disaster."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, standing and hoisting a trembling Draco up in his arms. The blonde managed to fling one arm around Harry's neck, catching it with his other hand. He pressed his face into Harry's chest as they made their way out of the dungeon.

"You could use a stretcher," Snape called after him, but Harry ignored his advice, wanting to be as close to Draco as possible. Draco groaned something into his sweater but Harry couldn't make out the words.

He had a wicked stitch in his side by the time he reached the Hospital Wing. Out of breath, he burst through the doors, almost running over a startled Madame Pomfrey.

"You two again?" she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "What is it this time?"

"Potions mishap," Harry said, in between gulps of air. "Snape's coming… with cure."

Poppy nodded, and told Harry to set his victim down on a bed. Harry wished he could keep holding him, but followed orders. Draco was still seizing slightly, his skin clammy to the touch. His hair was uncharacteristically mussed, and Harry instinctually smoothed it back into place. He summoned a chair, and sat at the side of his bed, clutching at the pain in his side.

"I'm so sorry," Harry repeated, unable to say anything more. Draco might have nodded, his eyes almost closed. Harry reached for one of his hands, holding it tightly. Draco squeezed his fingers weakly. Harry sat with him, in stillness and silence for half of an hour before Snape came through the door.

The professor was carrying a steaming goblet. Harry helped Draco sit up, supporting his back, so Snape could pour the potion into his mouth. Draco choked as he swallowed, slopping potion down his front. He leaned heavily against Harry for a few minutes before the brew could work its magic. His tremors abated, and he took in a deep shaking breath.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your inattention to detail," Snape said, voice sounding relieved. Harry wouldn't have cared if it was five hundred. As Snape retreated, he laid Draco back down, taking hold of one of his hands again.

Draco scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up at Harry. "Why do we always end up in the Hospital Wing?" he asked weakly, trying to smile.

"Because I'm an idiot. Draco, I am so unbelievably sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know what I can do to make this up to you."

Draco squeezed his hand. "I think we're even now."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Harry raised Draco's hands to his mouth, brushing his fingers with his lips. Draco blinked slowly, a small smile on his face.

"I don't think I can stay awake for much longer," he said, words slurring.

"That's ok. Go to sleep."

"Don't leave me?" Draco's eyes fell closed.

"I won't. Don't worry."

Draco nestled into his pillow, breathing deep.

* * *

Harry didn't leave. He sat watching Draco sleep for the next hour, until the blonde stirred.

"Good morning, sunshine," Harry whispered, as the blonde's eyes slid open.

"Morning," Draco said, stretching. He rubbed his eyes, and then lay staring at Harry.

"How're you feeling?"

"Good. Harry…"

"Yes?"

"I don't… I don't think we can be together."

Harry felt like his heart had stopped. He held on tightly to Draco's hand. "Why not?" he whispered.

"Harry, we're just…" His grey eyes were sad. He licked his lips before continuing. "We're on different sides. It would be too easy for You-Know-Who to use me to hurt you. To kill you. I couldn't risk that. I would never be able to live with myself, knowing it was my fault that he finally killed you."

"He's not going to kill me, Draco," Harry promised, ignoring the nagging in his head, the words of the prophecy bouncing around his mind. "I told you this: you can be good, too. There's so much good in you."

"I can't-"

"No, you can. You can! I'll be right here, every step of the way. And Dumbledore-"

Draco cut him off by wrenching his hand out of Harry's. "Listen to me!" His eyes were filled with tears. "I can't abandon my family. I can't put you at risk. I… I just can't."

Harry stared down at him for a moment, before standing and walking out of the Hospital Wing without looking back.

* * *

Harry spent the next month in silence. He barely spoke to Ron and Hermione, was rarely seen outside his room except for class or Quidditch practice. He was skipping meals and homework assignments. His friends didn't know what to do to help him, though it couldn't be said that they weren't trying.

The day dawned of the rescheduled match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry made his way stormily down to the pitch, wading through the few inches of snow that had fallen the night before. He was grouchy, having not slept well, and not looking forward to the match. Anytime he and Draco had passed in the hallway or seen each other in the necessary classes, eye contact had not been made, cold indifference had been adopted. To anyone else, it looked as though their relationship was the same as it had been since first year.

Harry was early, and the stands still stood mostly empty, the rest of the school up in the castle, enjoying a warm breakfast. Adorned in his scarlet robe, he stood in the door of the locker room, staring out at the pitch, eyes tracing the hoops, mind far away.

He watched as the emerald clad team filed onto the field, counting their numbers. All seven members were present, but no pale hair shone among them. Harry swallowed, and before his heart could consult his mind, he was sprinting back up to the castle, dodging the crowd now making its way opposite his heading.

He mounted the main stairs, robes streaming behind him, and headed straight for the seventh floor corridor. _He has to be in the Room. Where else?_

Harry rounded the corner and stopped. Draco was seated on the floor, back against the wall, staring at the empty stretch of wall where the door into the Room of Requirement usually appeared. Harry took a deep breath and forced his feet to move, carrying him forward toward Draco.

The blonde was chewing on his lower lip, cheeks stained with the echoes of tears. He didn't look up at Harry when he drew closer, gaze stayed on the wall opposite.

"Dray?" Harry opened softly.

A long pause stretched between them.

"I don't want to be hated anymore."

Harry's heart leapt. "You don't have to be."

Draco looked up at him, hesitantly, "I'm terrified."

"I know. But I'll be right here." He held out his hands to Draco.

"Promise?" the blonde asked as he pulled himself up.

"I'll never leave you," Harry said, sealing his words with a soft kiss.

The end.

**

* * *

**

A/N

: Hi team,

I was going for light hearted with this fic... Not sure that was entirely successful. Oh well.

Chapter titles are lyrics stolen from: Mumford & Sons, The National, Johnny Flynn, The White Stripes, The Beatles, Florence & the Machine, and Ingrid Michaelson.

Characters and the like are lovingly borrowed from J.K.R.

Thanks for reading! Much love.


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